Memento Mori
by Plagiarize
Summary: No trust, no honour, no loyalty, only fear and betrayal. Snape asks for help, but has the person he turns to decided that the Dark Lord has more to offer?
1. The Sleeper

Somewhere else, there's an island. On the island, there is a castle. Neither the island or the castle can be found by a person within whose chest beats a four-chambered heart. But there are shortcuts, for people desperate enough to look for them.

Inside the castle, you can find many rare and exotic things. In the greenhouse, there is a particularly fine specimen of Semper Augustus, a tulip that no one has seen since the sixteenth century. On the island, you may notice a number of Terror skinks, enormous lizards which have only recently gone extinct. The waters surrounding the island swarm with coelacanths, as well as several species of prehistoric sharks.

But these things, as marvelous and unique as they may be, are not the reason people come to the island, and Severus Snape barely noticed them as he Apperated inside the castle. In any case, he had seen them many times already. His feet took him down the long hallway and up an iron-wrought spiral staircase, down another hallway and to the third door on his left. He stood outside this door for rather longer than was absolutely necessary, before knocking.

No one answered. He knocked again, then a third time. Still nothing. An observer would realize that he was more than a little reluctant to be found calling on the inhabitant of this most unusual island. Nevertheless, he had no choice, and so he pushed open the door and walked inside.

The room was sparsely furnished, with a small window that looked out over the cliffs that skirted one side of the island. In front of that window was a thin cot, and on the cot was a woman. She was stretched out perfectly still, and her heart was not beating. Snape stood for a while longer, watching her.

She was a very attractive woman.

"Well?" said Snape at last. "Are you here or aren't you?"

A tiny thread of sound, barely more than that, echoed through the room.

"Voldemort has returned. As you said."

_I know._

He waited, but nothing more was forthcoming.

"The war has started. The Dementors have defected to the other side."

_I know that, too._

"The prophecy was lost."

_And Sirius Black has fallen through the veil. I know all these things. _

Snape waited, uncertain as to whether or not the speaker was still present. Only silence was forthcoming. He opened and shut his mouth, the words he wanted to say unwilling to leave his tongue.

"And..." His throat was dry. What emerged was little more than a whisper. "And whose side will you be on this time?"

No answer. Then, a laugh, as delicate as the play of light on a predator's eye.

_Go, wizard._

Snape went to reply, but instead stepped backwards in shock. Starting in the middle of his chest and rippling out, he disintegrated, dissolving into a fine dust that fell to the thinly carpeted floor. A light breeze brushed what was left away.

The woman smiled. Her eyes, the rich color of liquid gold, opened.


	2. Evening Star

Snape sat, irritated and anxious, at the teacher's table, not listening as Dumbledore made the usual announcements. He didn't bother to touch the food on his plate, which had already grown cold in any case.

She had dismissed him without answering that vital question on which might hang the outcome of the entire war. Whose side was she really on? And who could really tell? No one, of course.

No one could decipher what lay at her heart, no one could know what she thought and felt, no one knew her dreams and her fears. It was therefore somewhat unfair that she could know all that about him.

He answered Professor Firenze's solicitous inquiry as to his mental health with a half-hearted snarl, still dwelling on their conversation – if you could call it that. She had given nothing away.

And what did she mean by bringing up Sirius Black?

Students and teachers alike did not look up as a shadow suddenly obscured the enchanted ceiling. Outside, an amorous cricket preparing to sing heard the flap of leathery wings, and fell abruptly silent. Something landed gracefully outside Hogwarts with the subtle sound of talon scraping against stone.

Inside, the candles flickered. Conversation died away, before starting up again in a slightly higher pitch. Involuntarily, people found themselves darting nervous glances at the door to the Great Hall. Ironically enough, the only person who would be able to shed any light on the sudden change of atmosphere was too lost in inward contemplation to notice.

The candles flickered again, and went out, plunging the entire hall into darkness. A few people screamed, then looked embarrassed when they relit a moment later. Others laughed, dispelling the nervous tension.

Ah... 

Snape's eyes widened in shock at the voice that only he could hear.

Who's there, he thought wildly, although the question was redundant. A soft chuckle danced in his ear.

Redundant, yes. So surprised? Can I not repay the visit my friend paid me? 

You shouldn't have come like this.

_Didn't you expect it?_

No, Snape thought fiercely, I expected you to arrive in a more solid form. Get out of my thoughts, he added with a rising note of alarm as a stray memory flickered before his conscious mind. She was looking through his memories! A grosser abuse of privacy could not be imagined. She didn't acknowledge his demand. But there is another reason why I am here. Sirius Black has fallen into the hands of some... people. ...people? he asked witheringly. 

_Best to think of them as people, yes. They have been having fun, if it can be called that. They will bring him to Hogwarts._

But what sort of people are they?

He caught a trace of amusement in her answer

_The sort of people who are not people at all. Considering what they have done, you will refuse to think of them as sentient._

Sirius Black was my enemy, he reminded her.

_There are things repugnant to even the most embittered men. _

He winced as laughter echoed through his head.

_Get back to your dinner; you are worrying your friends._

They're no friends of mine, he protested, but she was gone.

Later that night, just as he was closing his office door after returning from the feast, he staggered and almost fell as a bolt of pain ripped through his mind.

_Better._

Stifling a gasp, he stood up, moving stiffly. She stood illuminated by a shaft of moonlight, obscenely indifferent to his discomfort and frustratingly attractive. She laughed. It was the same light, mocking laugh he'd heard so many times before.

_You did ask for a more solid form. _The words settled into the forefront of his brain, bypassing his ears entirely.

Snape refused to dignify the jab with a reply, instead walking to his desk and pulling out some papers that needed marking.

"Now what?" he asked aloud. "What do you want from me?"

_No need to talk, I can read your mind easily enough. _She walked over and took a seat across from him. _Talking to yourself isn't a good thing either._

"I at least feel less stupid that way," Snape muttered. He felt used.

_Poor Snape,_ she commiserated, smiling slightly. He winced involuntarily. _Life has not been kind to you, has it? But no matter. I am here for you._

Gold eyes locked into his, inscrutable.

_I am always here._


	3. A Dream Within A Dream

Far away, somewhere else, footsteps fell on the worn stones inside the castle. A skeletal hand reached out and pushed open a door.

The cot was empty.

The visitor stepped inside the room. The brass side table was scattered with cogwheels, tiny bronze things that spilt off its surface and onto the floor. The visitor bent to pick up a handful, running them through his fingers.

"A cheap trick."

_No cheaper than your magic shows._

The man smiled coldly. "So you _are_ here."

_I am always here. I am everywhere. Six thousand miles away, an alligator severed an ungulates spinal cord. I was there. Five meters from where you stand, a skink is stalking moth. I am there too._

"Wherever there is death."

_Stupid. There is always death. What you call life is merely a synonym for dying. Even as you are talking, you are aging, and as you age, death moves closer._

The wizard flinched, an involuntary twitch of a muscle at the corner of his eye. Laugher filled the room.

_But that is why you are here. You want to escape death._

"Yes."

_Why? It doesn't hurt a bit, or so I am told._

His face contorted into a mask of hatred. "So you are told," he spat. "_You_ will never die. Why should I? Why should I have to give up my life in the end, trading power for a coffin and the worms?" He paused, trying to regain his composure. "Immortality is what magic cannot give me. Even the Philosopher's Stone does not grant it. It prolongs life, yes, but it does not make you immortal." A shudder of impotent longing wracked his body.

_You do not know what you have asked for._

"I do."

_You only think you do._

His fist crashed down on the side table, sending the cogs flying. "_I will be the judge of that!_"

There was a silence. The wizard thought he could hear the sound of a ticking clock, and shuddered.

"Time," he muttered to himself. "We are wasting time."

_Time is never wasted. Merely unwisely used._

"Will you give me what I ask for or not?"

_I will. Exactly what you ask for._

He paused, his hand on the door handle. "And no tricks." It wasn't a question.

_What do you think I am, a two-bit conjurer? I play no tricks, human. Your kind is the one that plays tricks._

He still did not move. "I don't trust you."

_No one can._


	4. The City In The Sea

Snape stared into the shadows.

She watching him, he was sure. Unconsciously, his lips framed the question that tugged at the back of his mind.

_What_ are you?

_I am dragon._

He wasn't surprised when the shadows resolved themselves into a human form. It was her way of making him doubt what he was seeing – had she always been there, waiting in the wings?

A dragon? She looked nothing like the clumsy, vicious, flying reptiles that the wizarding world kept. And yet there was something draconian about her, the lithe beauty of the promise of a violent death.

_Don't you know what a dragon _is?

"A dragon is a bloody great flying lizard," he replied, somewhat testily.

_Stupid. _

"What is it, then?" he challenged, wanting to gain some sort of insight into her mind, half hoping that it might give him some sort of an edge.

_Stupider. I am an immortal creature, with thoughts and emotions a mere human could never understand. When the boiling seas cooled, when lava hardened into igneous rock, I was there. When the fourth planet slammed into earth and sent debris hurtling up into space to create the satellite you call the moon, I was there. When the Cambrian explosion brought forth life the likes of which you could never imagine, I was there. _

Amber eyes watched him unblinkingly.

_In another few millennia, humans will be gone, and the earth will not mark your passing. Your history, your petty wars and self-centered squabbles are of no more consequence than a teardrop is to the ocean. You think you can influence me, when I will outlive you a thousand times over? There is nothing you can offer me that I cannot take._

_Always remember that._

She lapsed into silence. Snape didn't pursue the subject. He was caught off guard when she spoke again.

_Death is a necessary end._

He looked up, puzzled. "Yes. What of it?"

_Then why do you fear it? People try to defeat it, always. They try to bargain with their make-believe gods. There was a city,_ she added._ Altars, carved from stone. They built the entire city out of white marble. _Her voice was surprisingly mild. _I watched. They built temples and offered sacrifices, all in the hope of a glorious afterlife.. _

Snape wondered what had happened to them. His grasp of ancient civilizations was weak.

_The city slid into the sea. They built their civilization on a fault line, and it shifted. Lava boiled out of the volcanoes, and the earth moved. They cursed and cajoled their gods in the same breath. They begged for mercy, even as they hoped for a better life after death. It made no difference. They died by the thousands, caught between burning and drowning. Ironic, isn't it? They feared death, and at the same time they coveted it, but not all their gods could save them from it._

_The city is still there, _she added. _I go back, sometimes. Once, they ruled a continent... and now sea spiders crawl beneath the altars, and the towers echo with the sounds of whale songs. Now their city is only a marble skeleton of what it once was, and could have been._


	5. Corpus Delicti

Deep into the night, the wizard sat alone, staring into the empty hearth. The snake coiled around his feet hissed softly, but didn't stir as he reached down to caress the scaled head.

In an idle gesture, he drew his wand. The empty hearth exploded into light before subsiding into flickering flame.

_Better than contemplating a dead fire, yes?_

"You." The man's hand tightened around his wand. The slight emphasis on the word 'dead' had not gone unnoticed.

_Me._

"And have you brought me what I asked for?"

_Patience. There is a way these things must be done. _

"So you have decided there is to be a price after all." He sneered.

_There is always a price. It was you who neglected to ask after it. _

The wizard's eyes flickered to the heavy, dusty tome on his desk. "I know what you are."

There was faint amusement in her answer. _Do you._

"You are a draconian. You feed on fear," he continued. "It gives you energy. I can give it to you. In exchange for immortality."

She did not answer for a long moment. Then a soft chuckle sounded out of the shadows.

_You do not understand. _

"I can give you fear," he repeated.

_Human, I feed on panic, the seconds of desperation before premature death. I feed on fear, yes, but not the fear that you inspire. I feed on animal terror. You cannot give me that. _

"I can give you anything you ask for."

_There is nothing I would ask for. Offer, and I might accept. _Might

"There must be something you want. I have seen your home and the things you keep. If there is nothing you want, why do you keep so many paintings? The rare books and tapestries? Why encumber yourself with the relics of a dead era?"

_Baubles. _

"But you covet them."

_And you covet power that will last only as long as you. _

"Shut up," he rasped.

_You know it is true: that is why you came to me. You know you are temporary – that once you are no longer there, then you become nothing more than a bogeyman, a story to scare children with. _

"Shut up." He waited until he had his temper under control. "I have often wondered," he said, almost to himself, "what happens when a person dies."

_Their cells begin to digest themselves, turning their internal organs into a putrid consommé. Amino acids and volatile fatty acids seep into the matrix. Bones disintegrate into calcium, phosphates, sulfur, chlorides and other compounds. Blowflies lay their eggs on the carcass, and maggots devour the flesh before pupating into flies themselves. Et cetera, et cetera._

"You know what I mean," he snapped. "What happens to their soul?"

_Life is a biological process, your personality defined by certain neurons and chemical imbalances in the brain. There is no such thing as a soul._

"There must be. How else to explain humans?"

_You mean the senseless brutality and selfishness that distinguishes _Homo sapiens_ from other races? It is undoubtedly a crude method of population control._

"What are you talking about?" the wizard demanded, frustrated.

_If you are busy killing your neighbors, the species as a whole will not grow so large as to strain the natural resources allocated to it. Of course, in your case, it failed, but things will balance out in the end. _Homo sapiens_ will be no more, and the earth will still turn on its usual axis._

"Why do you torture me like this?" His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

_Why do you let me? If you were not so weak, the things I speak of would hold no terror. If you were not so weak, you would not fear so necessary an end as death._

The fire still burnt in the hearth, but even it could not protect the wizard from the darkness of the soul.


	6. False Hearts

Snape was again seated in the Great Hall when she next chose to make her appearance.

_It is time._

Time for what? he demanded, having given up on being surprised when her voice sounded in his head.

_Time for Sirius Black to make his appearance, back from the dead. _

So he is alive.

_Did I say that? He is not dead, but he is not alive. What is this thing you call death? No one is ever truly dead. There are still living cells in even the coldest corpse that might be revived. A living cow could be cloned from the steak in front of you. It is not dead, but you insist it is not alive._

Snape put down his fork, appetite suddenly gone.

But you said Sirius Black was coming, he thought. Now?

_Yes._

On cue, every candle in the hall flickered, and went out. The room was plunged into darkness. The more excitable students screamed, and some teachers leapt to their feet, wands at the ready.

The massive double doors across from them swung open with a bang, framing the haggard figure that stood in the doorway. All eyes turned towards, him, and a dead, oppressive silence filled the room as he took a step forwards.

From the corner of his eye, Snape saw a figure start forwards. It was Potter.

"Sirius!"

_NO._

The boy's body jerked spasmodically, leaving no doubt in Snape's mind that he wasn't the only one to feel the command. Potter strained towards the figure of his godfather, but invisible hands held him back. Suddenly, he shuddered wildly, and fell forwards onto the cold stone floor.

A wild, chittering noise of disappointment filled the hall, echoing from the middle of the hall outwards. Snape felt something brush past his head, and a few people ducked involuntarily.

_HE IS _MINE

At the last word, Snape was rudely jerked from his body.

His eyes snapped open, and he sat up carefully, nursing his aching body. Where was he? The room was familiar. The view outside the window was tropical. He was in the castle.

A sudden fear gripped his heart. If he was in the castle, then she must have his body. Panicked, he threw open the door and ran down the hallway. He had to find a way out of this place and find out what she was doing.

He tripped over his own feet running down the spiral staircase, but made it to the front hall. A flicker of movement caught his eye. The wizard standing in front of the main doors looked up.

"You," he hissed.

Mouth dry, Snape bowed stiffly. "Lord."

Voldemort sneered. "Don't think you can escape death at my hands by bowing and scraping," he snarled. "You betrayed me. The Dark Lord has a long memory, Professor, and I do not reward traitors." His inhuman eyes narrowed suddenly. "But what are you doing here?" he mused. "What has she promised you?"

Snape moved away, ignoring him. There was nothing he could do; the island was governed by natural laws that resisted the idea of magic. Much as he would love to be the one to kill Lord Voldemort, they were both unarmed.

Despite his effort to show indifference, Voldemort's next words brought him up short.

"She has promised me great things," Voldemort continued. "I will be invincible. Harry Potter will die, and the world will be purged of mudbloods and muggles alike."

Snape turned to face him. "And you trust her?" he asked, mouth dry.

"She promised to give me everything I asked for." The madness reflected in his eyes was hypnotizing. "She gave me her word. She cannot go back on that. Words are binding."

"But why should she keep her promises?" Snape demanded. "What does she stand to gain?"

"Fear. Terror." Voldemort smiled coldly. "I will give her human pain and suffering. That is what she stands to gain from my reign."

Looking into his eyes, Snape could see the truth behind the words, and he was horrified. There _were_ things repugnant to even the most embittered men.

"You're mad," he rasped.

The reptilian smile didn't leave Voldemort's face. "Maybe so. But I will crush Dumbledore and his allies, and then the question of my sanity will be insignificant, won't it?"


	7. The Clockwork Heart

Harry Potter watched as the Potion's Master slumped into a chair. The body of Sirius Black was laid out in front of him, and the three of them were in the medical ward.

"Well?" he demanded, angered and confused by the recent events. "You said you knew what was wrong." Harry's hand tightened around his wand. "What are you going to do?"

Snape didn't move as the answer echoed out of the shadows.

_He said no such thing. I did._

Harry whirled around and found himself facing a very attractive amber-eyed woman. He stepped backwards, uncertain. She was tall, almost a head taller than he was, and impossibly slim.

"Who're you?"

_Who I am is unimportant. Professor Snape had nothing to do with this. He will not remember what happens here. _Her cold eyes turned to regard the still figure of Sirius Black. _And as for the man..._

"You can do something?" Harry jumped in. "You can help him?"

_He is, to all intents and purposes, dead. _

"But he was walking! He came here!"

Ignoring him, she reached over and pulled back Black's open shirtfront. A ragged, red wound, hastily stitched together with gut leather, marred the left side of his chest.

_Those who found him did this. _

"Why don't your lips move when you talk?" Harry asked, suspicious.

Still ignoring his question, she took a thin-bladed knife from her sleeve and cut the stitches. Pulling the leather out, she continued. _They thought to prolong his vital systems long enough to ensnare you. They want you to turn to them when you discover it is possible to bring your godfather back to life. _

"Then why did you tell me?" he demanded, trying to keep the hope out of his voice.

_Perhaps I too enjoy human suffering. _She looked him in the eye as she pulled back the red, raw flesh, exposing the chest cavity to reveal a ruby red heart.

But something was wrong. The heart was not pulsing with the normal, healthy beat of life. Instead, it ticked with the regularity of clockwork, sounding with a thin and spidery beat. Her hand closed around the makeshift heart, and she pulled it out.

Harry started forwards with a strangled cry, but her hand shot out, catching him in the middle of the chest. It was like running into an iron bar.

"What do you think you're doing?" he choked, hate filling his expression. "You killed him. You killed him and now he's _dead_."

Looking him levelly in the eye, she opened her hand. The heart lay open in two pieces, revealing the gears meshed neatly inside.

_A clockwork heart does not give a person life._ She turned away, slipping the heart into an inside pocket.

"But you said you could bring him back to life," Harry persisted, subsiding into resentment.

She didn't look up from washing her hands. _It is possible to give the body new life. But it would not be your godfather who is brought back. _

"What do you mean, if you're giving him life!"

_It will be Sirius Black's body that lives, but it will not be the Sirius Black you know. The man would have none of the old Black's memories or experiences. This Black would never have known the Marauders. He would never have gone to Hogwarts. He would not recognize you._

"He would," said Harry firmly. "He wouldn't forget."

_You haven't been listening, _she reproached him, laconically. _It would be a new person, not Sirius Black, who lived. He would not know how to walk, so how would he know who you were?_

He took a deep breath. "Alright. So giving him new life erases his memory. But you can revive him, can't you? And get the real Sirius Black back?"

_No. He has been dead too long, and oxygen deprivation has destroyed his brain cells. He would still not be able to function normally. _

Harry throttled the sudden desire to kill the woman who stood between him and his last wizard relative. "So magic can't save him," he said flatly. "He's dead."

_Isn't that better than ignorance as to his fate?_

Reaching out to close the blank, staring eyes, Harry looked from the gaping wound in the middle of his godfather's chest to the woman's impassioned expression. Hate and bloody murder filled his heart, and he started forwards again with a strangled yell of rage.

She was gone.

A sound startled him. Snape sat up suddenly, staring wildly past Harry. He jumped to his feet and stalked out the door before Harry could stop him.

"You have some explaining to do," Snape snarled, slamming his office door behind him. There was a moment of uncertainty, when an answer failed to come immediately.

_I need explain nothing to you._

"What do you mean by bargaining with the Dark Lord?" he demanded. "You promise to make him _invincible_, and for what?"

She didn't answer.

"Fear. Pain. Suffering. _Death_."

_That is my business, not yours._

"Not my business? When it will lead to our demise?"

Despite the desperate anger that blinded him, her next words were like a slap in the face.

_Your life is not your own anymore. It is _mine

"Damn you," he muttered, furious but able to see the truth behind her words. "Damn you. Why couldn't you have stayed out of my life?"

_Too late._

His own weaknesses throttled him, preventing the flood of angry words from escaping his throat. For the first time in many years, he was close to tears.

The cataclysmic purging of the wizard families, mudbloods and muggles they had strove so hard to prevent would become a reality. The only escape now was suicide.

Sunk in an agony of despair, Snape barely noticed the touch of a velvet hand on his shoulder. It was surprisingly gentle, but when he looked up into her eyes, he saw nothing.

_Calm yourself,_ she ordered, and he felt all the pain and fear melt away, leaving only heavy, oppressive, unnatural sleep.


	8. Suicide is Painless

Through early morning fog I see 

"I am here."

_Visions of the things to be,_

"I want what was promised."

_The pains that are withheld for me,_

_I realize and I can see..._

The castle was empty. A stray wind stirred the heavy coating of dust that covered the floors and window ledges.

_That suicide is painless,_

_It brings on many changes_

_And I can take or leave it if I please._

_The game of life is hard to play,_

Snape lay still as death, oblivious to the worried voices audible from the other side of the closed door.

_I'm going to lose it anyway,_

Inside, he relived his failures, all the humiliations and defeats of a life unwillingly lived...

_The losing card I'll someday lay;_

_So this is all I have to say..._

...again, and again, and again...

_That suicide is painless,_

_It brings on many changes_

_And I can take or leave it if I please._

_The only way to win is cheat_

Voldemort stood silently, watching a gossiping group of sixth-years as they hurried back to their dormitory.

_And lay it down before I'm beat_

Once they were out of sight, he strode across the hall.

And to another give my seat 

_For that's the only painless feat._

He stopped, and stood looking up at the stone gargoyle.

_That suicide is painless,_

_It brings on many changes_

_And I can take or leave it if I please._

_And you can do the same thing if you please..._

"And now... it begins."


	9. Who Saw Him Die

In his bed, Snape sat up with a strangled gasp.

He had to tell Dumbledore. He had to warn him, because the Headmaster alone could stop the Dark Lord. He was the only one powerful enough...

With that illusion of hope crowding his thoughts, he ran through the deserted corridors of the castle, his footsteps echoing behind him. He ran past the guardian gargoyle, stopping only to gasp the password ('Fizzing Whizzbees') and burst through the door into Dumbledore's office.

"Ah, Professor Snape. I am so glad you could join us."

It took Snape a while to realize what he was seeing. The tall, skeletal figure who stood watching him from behind Dumbledore's desk.

The corpse sprawled in front of that same desk, white hair and beard spilling across the floor.

"No."

"And so it comes to pass," the Dark Lord intoned. "Darkness has slipped past your weak defenses of Truth, Virtue, Innocence and Kindness. All your morals and the good things that inspired you have come to nothing. In the end, it is the brute strength of Black Magic whose canons shall be obeyed."

Snape was close enough to see the blank, staring eyes of what had once been the greatest wizard since Merlin. A gesture from Voldemort and his head was snapped back, forcing him to look directly into the eyes of Dumbledore's killer.

Voldemort leaned forwards.

"You see," he whispered harshly. "She did give me what I asked for. There is only power, and those too weak to take it."

"And what did she take in return?"

He yelled as pain lashed through his brain. It stopped when Voldemort grabbed him by the throat.

"Nothing," he panted, voice quivering with fury. "There was no price." He let go roughly, sending Snape sprawling. Another streak of pain lanced through him, and he bit through his lip trying to keep from screaming.

"There was no price," Voldemort repeated as Snape lay shivering on the ground. He turned away and walked back to the podium.

Snape staggered to his feet and wiped the blood from his mouth, body once more under his control. "You... you're scared."

A look from Voldemort sent a bolt of pain searing through him.

"You're scared," Snape repeated once it had passed. "You don't know what she will ask for."

"Shut up."

"She'll come to collect," Snape shouted, desperate to stay conscious. "And you won't know the price until she takes it from you."

He staggered and fell again as pure agony wracked his body, again and again and again...

He was dimly aware that his assailant was speaking.

"You will not speak to your Lord that way. No." The pain stopped, leaving Snape gasping for breath. "No. I am too lenient. No, you will _die_ for your disrespect."

_From sickness, from injury, from old age even, but he will not die from disrespect._

Voldemort froze as the voice echoed out of the empty air. A thick fog was seeping through the cracks in the stone floor, creeping towards the center of the room and curling upwards, solidifying into the figure of a woman.

She smiled.

"You," Voldemort croaked before he regained some of his composure. "You cannot take from me what you have already given," he warned, leveling his wand at her. "I will have my victory. You promised."

_Did I?_

He was shaking now, backing away from the gaze of her immobile, inhuman eyes. "You gave me your word!"

_And you expect I would make an effort to keep it? Words have no power. They slip from one's lips, and are lost. _

"You can't betray me now!" he shrieked.

_Betrayal? It is hardly betrayal. I want something from you in exchange for the power I gave you. That is all. _

"What do you want from me?"

_Everything..._

Voldemort dropped his wand and held up his hands in a desperate and futile attempt to shield himself as she reached forwards.

"But the prophecy," he protested weakly.

_Only words..._

Snape pushed himself up as Voldemort's rapidly cooling body hit the ornate Persian carpet.

"What was that for?" he demanded.

_Not to assuage my guilty conscience, whatever you may think, _she assured him, reaching down and pulling him to his feet. He didn't flinched at the touch of her icy hand, feeling slightly stunned by this, her first human act.

"Voldemort is dead, then."

_Along with Dumbledore. There is a void to be filled, one that will not stand empty for long._

Snape sneered half-heartedly, shoving the memory of fire searing under his skin aside. "Fudge will use the opportunity. He will try to take charge of Hogwarts, of all the weak-willed idiots..."

She sighed. _I had hoped for more, from an Occulomentor._

"What do you expect, then?" he snapped. "There has been rather a lot on my mind, of late. Forgive me if I seem obtuse."

_There is a time of fire ahead. It will destroy and leave survivors with scars that are not easily forgotten. And it will burn the dead wood to ashes, to leave room for regrowth._

"Voldemort is dead. The battle is over," Snape protested, sinking into a chair. "There will be no fire."

_Voldemort's death is only the beginning. It is not a snake that has been killed but a Hydra –three more will grow from the bloody stump, now that the first head has been cut off. Lucius Malfoy will not accept defeat as gracefully a second time. The giants will not want to acknowledge that the man who promised so much is dead. You think the Dementors will go back to Azkaban peacefully? _

"Point taken," he grumbled, leaning back and closing his eyes. "The battle has only begun."

_And there is power there, for those with the courage to take it._

Snape's eyes snapped open, and he struggled to sit up straight.

"Do you expect me to ask you for authority?" he demanded.

_No. I expect you to take it._

He opened his mouth to speak, and was struck dumb by the unexpected force of her amber eyes.

_I will take Voldemort,_ she said at last, breaking the spell. _And you will go back to your office unseen. Dumbledore will have died of complications of the heart, resulting from stress and old age._

"No one would believe me if I did. Answer them, that is."

She ignored him and walked over to the window.

_Look out over any city, and what you see is a rolling sea of evil, shallow in some places, but so much deeper in others. And yet, there are people who built themselves rafts of good intentions and vague rules and say, _this_ is the opposite, _this_ will triumph in the end. Amazing. _

"Eh?" said Snape, still preoccupied by their earlier conversation. "No. There is still some good in everyone."

_There you go. Hiding behind a smokescreen of bourgeois clichés._

"If we really are inherently evil then what is there worth living for?" he asked bitterly. "Suicide is painless," he remembered. "And I can take it or leave it if I please..."

_Oh, I don't know. There are some things in this world beautiful enough to live for. Cats and curry, for example._

"What?"

She smiled slightly. _Go back to your room, wizard. The sun has set on this particular scene. _

_The rest of the play has yet to be written. _


	10. And In The End

And on a grassy knoll on an island, a tall, already skeletal corpse was laid to rest.

Not far away, a large skink twitched irritably as a brilliant green fly landed on its nose. The fly took off again, wings buzzing as it followed the undeniably alluring scent of death to its source.

Trace molecules of acetic acid and methyl disulfide guided the egg-laden blowfly to the fresh corpse. It landed on its nose, which didn't twitch. Turning in delicate pirouettes, the fly touched and tasted the salty skin through the chemoreceptors on the soles of its six feet. Finally, selecting the corner of one vacant, staring eye, it extended its ovipositor and began carefully laying its eggs.

The eggs would begin hatching fifteen hours later. Each larva would immediately begin tearing into the exposed flesh, slicing through tissue to satisfy their insatiable appetites, until retreating into ground to undergo their final metamorphosis into adults, to begin the cycle anew.

_In mori veritas _


End file.
